Friends, family celebrate the life of Mark Ciborowski

Twenty years ago, Jim Rosenberg watched a man from his office window in downtown Concord. 

Day after day, that man, Mark Ciborowski, ran up and down Low Avenue — the alley behind the properties he owned — fixing faucets, greasing hinges and tending to his buildings with the kind of attention most owners reserve for their homes.

It started with a wave between them. Then friendship. A Las Vegas trip. And finally, two decades of loyalty that carried them through to Ciborowski’s final days.

“His friends were his family,” said Rosenberg, an attorney with Shaheen & Gordon. “He had that ability to very quickly become very close friends with people and set aside any of the odd barriers that exist between us and get right to what matters talking to somebody else.”

On Saturday, the Capitol Center for Arts — one of the historic downtown buildings Ciborowski had brought back to life — filled with hundreds of people who came to celebrate his life. 

Ciborowski died of cancer at 70 in June. A businessman and developer, he owned a collection of historic properties downtown and became known for his meticulous preservation work and vision for Main Street’s revival. His dedication to the community earned him several monikers, including “Prince of Downtown Concord” and “Mr. Main Street.”

Ciborowski had a passion for local live music that naturally extended to his plans for Phenix Hall. He wanted to develop it as a 499-seat venue, a destination for exceptional food, drink and entertainment with live music. 

It was the kind of project that defined him: ambitious, community-focused, rooted in his belief that downtown could thrive. 

But the dream never materialized.

A full life

When Ciborowski was diagnosed with cancer, doctors gave him 12 to 24 months. He refused to accept their timeline and fought for four years. Through it all, he refused to stop living.

His wife, Diane, said he was stubborn, a quality that sustained him through rounds of aggressive chemotherapy that would have broken most people’s will.

Instead, Mark and Diane Ciborowski traveled to Italy, Quebec City, Bermuda, New York and anywhere else that called to them, squeezing life out of every moment until hospitalization confined him during his final months in May and June.

“He was just determined,” said Diane Ciborowski. “He was always so full of life and upbeat, even when he was in the hospital until the last three weeks or so.”

Ciborowski loved his wife’s cooking: shrimp scampi, garlic chicken, blueberry pancakes. But as the end drew near, his appetite faded. 

In those final days, the couple shared one last simple moment of intimacy over vanilla ice cream. It was the last thing Ciborowski ate. Diane fed him spoonful by spoonful, sharing the ice cream with her husband.

“We had a really great relationship, and we would kind of tease each other and pick on each other a little bit, just a little bit of banter back and forth, and I really miss that,” Diane Ciborowski said.

Lasting friendships

At Ciborowski’s memorial, his vibrant spirit lived on through the guests, many of whom honored him by wearing Hawaiian shirts and bright floral attire.

Joel Pickerling arrived in a turquoise shirt with red and yellow flowers. Years earlier, he’d been searching for commercial real estate space in downtown Concord when he spotted a sign in a window: Ciborowski Associates. He called the number. 

Ciborowski connected him with the right people, and a business inquiry turned into something deeper. 

Pickering said that soon they became friends and he was having dinner at Ciborowski’s house, meeting his friends and becoming part of his social circle.

“He was very kind, very influential and would do anything to help anybody and the city,” Pickering said. “Mark was just one of those personalities that people just gravitate to.”

In his last years, Ciborowski celebrated every day.

“When he got sick, he wrapped his arms around his friends,” Rosenberg said. “He picked certain people to tell, and then he never stopped celebrating with them. Almost every night that he had left.”

Friday nights at the Barley House became sacred rituals with his friends. He’d venture out to listen to local live music, gathering people around him in the way only he could.

Through his time with Ciborowski, Rosenberg said he learned to extend that same genuine friendship to others.

“He was friends with people of all stripes without really regard for their pedigree, and that was another gift I think that Mark gave to everyone,” Rosenberg said. “He didn’t view people on some sort of social ladder. He just loved people, and if you were lucky enough to be one of his people, he loved you in turn. He was loyal as hell.”

Rosenberg still occupies the same office, still looks out at the same window, the same alley where it started. But the view holds something different now — an absence he wasn’t prepared for.

“I expect to see him when I get out of my truck in the alley. I miss him walking by and waving through my window,” he said. “I expect it to happen, and then suddenly it doesn’t happen.”